Found Letters - Forgotten Fates

 

1892 Family Letter

It's been five years.  My dad died on the first of July five years ago. Following his death I uncovered in a box of his things a large manila envelope. In that envelope were scores of letters. These letters were written to family members starting as early as 1856 and a transcript of a letter from 1840. These letters were not protected and not preserved.

As I went through the letters, I had to decide what I was going to do with them. Some I have kept. Some I have shared with family. Some I have donated to a library since they involve coal mining and railroad history of West Virginia. Some of them were written on paper that crumbled upon touch.  Those I tried to read as much as I could then I simply let the fragments fall into a waste basket.  One of those was a letter from my grandfather to his mother in the 1927. My grandfather had been working in tree surgery in the northeastern U.S. and told of his opportunity to see the movie, "Ben Hur.".

The 1840 letter was written in May that year to my 4th Great-Grandfather, John Wylie, by his brother, Robert, who was living as a tenant in Hallgreen Castle in Aberdeenshire, Scotland. Robert had let communication languish between him and John - not answering a letter for 23 years. In his letter he poured out the events of fortunes and failures in their family in Europe that had occurred since they last communicated. Unfortunately, when he finally wrote and sent the letter - it arrived shortly before or after his brother died in September of the same year.

The 1856 letter and some closely following it were letters of affection written by John' grandson, Robert, to Elizabeth Blume, who he would eventually marry. They were written on very fine quality paper and have held up very well. Additionally, there were letters from Elizabeth Blume's father, Philip to his son-in-law discussing his health shortly before his death.  In this letter he describes his condition as: "I have a severe cough and pain in my left side. My bowels are greatly disordered & I am still growing weaker." and "I am very anxious to see you all before I go hence. The way I am failing so fast I sometimes think the time is near at hand and I am daily trying to be ready." Philip, born in 1793, wrote that letter in July of 1872 and died four months later. There is no record as to whether the family made the trip to from Athalia, OH to Mountain Cove, WV within those four months.

The saddest series of letters occurred between 1891 and 1893.  It begins with hope and enthusiasm by great-grandfather's brother, Cecil, as he discusses his hopeful expectations for his education at National Normal University in Lebanon, OH. 

While home in Millers, OH for a break, he sent a letter to his brother in May of 1891 about upcoming examinations and that he would be traveling back to Lebannon on the Ida Smith then returning to visit him in Kenova, WV. He then spoke distantly of a macabre event where he says, "Sunny Dillons caught the Sarron girl who was drowned last Feb. Her folks came down after her on the Brown. She was all to pieces a horrible looking sight it is supposed that she has lain in the willows until this rain floated her out."

School work was beginning to wear on him because in October of 1891, he says about how much time he will need to spend in schoolwork, "It almost discourages me, but if See Miller can stand it why can’t I?" In that same letter he says about his ambitions, "I would like to stay at home all the time but I see that is impossible. Millers is no place for me or any other boy that intends to make anything out of themself." 

In that same month he was not in school, but rather employed with his cousin as his letter to his brother he says, "...if Peck gives you a helper this winter I would like to stay with you. It would be much much nicer than this work if he will pay anything reasonable. I would not kick you need not say anything about it unless you think best. But if you should want me I would gladly except (sic). We are not getting along as fast with this work as Coleman expected we would when he took this work. I don’t think he will make much money. We will be at French Lick some time all while but so far they have been settled by Dutch and it was the same as being in Germany. Today we are with an English family but it is so crowded that I am in misery. There is 11 sleeps in the same room. A man and his wife in the same room." 

There is no evidence that my great-grandfather found any work for Cecil - so the next summer, Cecil was working on a railroad contract job outside of Charleston, WV for C. A. Saber. There he applied his education toward keeping payroll for the company as he relayed in his letter to his brother on Jul 7, 1892. This letter was also full of hope for increased pay and responsibility. It was full of interests in the unique ways of the railroad contracting business. It included glimpses of his excitement for new sights, sounds, and experiences. Cecil spoke of absorbing those experiences while seemingly devoid of prejudice when he says, "We have a crew of Old Virginia Negroes here. They are a great set. All of them call me Captain James. It makes me think of the old man who had the boat above yours last summer." 

It was a letter of hope, but it ended with an omen when he says, "Burr Sarber is sick with Typhoid Fever. He is very sick. He will have a hard time of it as he is so fleshy. I think that he will come through all right."  Cecil, himself, died of Typhoid only one month later on the 8th of August.

In a November letter (page 2) the same year to my great-grandfather, their mother and my 2nd great-grandmother, Henrietta, wrote, "Twelve weeks today since we followed poor Cecil to his resting place. A sad day it was to and I will all the rest of my life – oh one so dear to me how can I ever give him up." and closes with "take good care of yourself, Vess, and don't get sick"

Among the letters some are of love and some are of hope. Some, though, are simply the last links to a loved family member. Today we don't often have those tangible letters to hold on to and reread as I imagine my great-grandparents did from time to time. 

It is intriguing that I have letters that were last links to great-grandparents and uncles I never met. Simultaneously, they are a subset of the tangible things I have held on to remember my loved family member.

American Revolution - Declaring Independence

Signing of the Declaration of Independence

I began celebrating, in my own way, the Semiquincentennial (250th) anniversary of the birth of the United States on the 19th of April 2025, the day 251 years ago now, that the first shots of the American Revolution rang out along the Lexington-Concord road.

I began with a tour of American Revolutionary War parks and sights. I followed that up with several genealogical documentation efforts that included:

• Documenting more of the Lexington Minutemen.
• Documenting the People of Valley Forge
• Researching the Green Mountain Boys
• Identifying Revolutionary Ancestors for my family members and blogging about many of them

The culmination of this celebration ends on the day it officially begins, 4 July 2026 when the fireworks fill the evening skies across the country marking the 250th anniversary of our declaration.

I don't know why this anniversary hit me stronger than most.  Maybe it is because I remember looking forward to the 200th Anniversary in 1976.  Maybe it is because I have a copy of George Bancroft's 1876 Centennial American History six volume set of books that I have tried unsuccessfully to read over the years. Maybe it is because I realize I am very unlikely to survive to see the 300th Anniversary. Maybe it is because I am fascinated by the zeal for independence and the sacrifice for liberty that was not and could not be adequately communicated in grade school curriculum.

As with the other blogs on the subject, I'm going to explore personal connections to the events. Wikitree has a feature that allows you to find connections (if your tree is on Wikitree) to various people who have developed profiles. For example, there are categories for things like the Signers of the Declaration of Independence or the Magna Carta Barons - both examples of a group of peoples asserting their perceived rights to self-govern.

When I look at my family ties to the signers of the Declaration of Independence, I discover three standouts worth discussing.

First, I am a third cousin to John Adams. John, in great collaboration with his wife, Abigail, thought about the formation of the nation from a legal perspective. In many ways he didn't originally want to break from England - but once he realized it was inevitable, he fought vigorously and tirelessly to make it successful. The struggle came at a great cost to his relationships with family and friends.

Second, I am a first cousin to Roger Sherman. You don't hear much about Roger, but he was the only signer who signed all the founding documents. He signed the Continental Association, Declaration of Independence, Articles of Confederation, and the Constitution. Roger and I are related through a common grandfather, Benjamin Wellington.

John and Roger are prominently portrayed standing next to one another in John Trumbull's painting (shown above) of the signing of the declaration.

The final "close" family member is Thomas Nelson, Jr a fourth cousin. Thomas was not portrayed in Trumbull's famous painting. Thomas was a commander at the siege of Yorktown.  Some British took refuge in his town home.  His artillerymen deigned to fire at his house - so Nelson aimed the cannon at his own house.

Fourth cousins are not particularly close family members. Often people don't personally know any of their living fourth cousins. But this signer is of special interest because our common ancestor is Theophilus Hone (one of my 9th great-grandfathers in my paternal lineage). Theophilus lived in Jamestown, VA in 1666 where he was a Burgess. But he has the distinction of connecting me to both my paternal and maternal family.  Theophilus received a grant of land on the Rappahannock in payment for providing passage for one of my maternal eighth great-grandfathers, Charles Gorsuch, (and three of his siblings) while they were orphaned minors to the Colonies in the early 1650s.

As the semiquincentennial approaches and in thinking about these three cousins, I realize what I would never have been told in a classroom history class.  I am personally connected to the very founding of this country.  Like the three-cornered hat of the 18th century, these three patriots and the contributions they made rest on my head reminding me of the precious inheritance their contributions provided me.

Liberty! Hard won and easily eroded. Liberty! Fraught with risk yet alive with promise. Liberty! Self-determination bound to responsibility. Liberty! Held in trust and shared with grace. Liberty! Give me liberty or give me death! We cry for liberty. 

Do I and my fellow heirs have what it takes to maintain and expand our inheritance?

The Club and the Ring

Standard Hospital View

Memories are funny. Traumatic events in life are often seared into the core of our memories. Traumatic memories affect different people differently, but I suppose no matter who you are they resurface both when intentionally recalled and when unintentionally triggered. Today, I’m going to intentionally recall one for this blog. But to be fair this memory surprised me a couple days ago after laying dormant for probably over a decade.

So often these seared-in memories are experienced, for me anyway, in snippets. They are usually immediately re-filed unless they arise in conversation. Even then, the whole memory is not explored - only the essence needed for the topic of conversation. This time I’m going to try to remember it and reveal it in its entirety.

This story starts with an eleven year old me and a seven year old brother.

We attended a small private school at that time. Every school day we would walk to a neighborhood intersection to catch a ride to school. We didn’t catch a bus, but one of the teachers lived nearby so we walked to meet him on the corner. It was on his way to the school. It was a good and convenient arrangement.

On our walk we would often find treasures to bring home. On one particular day we came upon a pine root about three feet long. It tapered on one end and had a knob at the top. It looked like walking cane the aging Bilbo Baggins might have used. The knob end had clearly been pulled from the ground as it had a few sharp points on it.

As boys did at the time, a game of war broke out in the neighborhood one afternoon. Whether it was “Cowboys & Indians” or “Germans & Americans” I can no longer recall. Of course in the game no one ever admits to being killed and everyone claims their shots were true. As one boy rounded the corner of the house I “shot” at him and he “shot” at me with our imaginary guns. “Bang, bang! you’re dead!” “No I’m not! You missed! I shot you first!”

My little brother, unbeknownst to me, stood behind me intent to join the fray - though clearly not invited to play with the “big boys.” I heard from behind me, “I got him!” Then everything went black.

Next moment I recall, I am sitting on the front porch with mom holding the back of my head. The pine root had become Cain’s club - though wielded without malice or jealousy.

In today’s world a trip to the hospital would be the standard procedure - but money was tight. So, my parents took me to the kitchen table and Dad put two stitches in the back of my head. My parents monitored me to assure I wasn’t vomiting or getting sleepy.

Days passed and I healed and all that remains now is a memory and a small divot in the back of my head hidden by hair.

Returning to the car stop awaiting a ride for school some weeks later I discovered another treasure. It was a metal ring about three or four inches across. I played with it in my hand. I shared my find with my brother and he returned it to me. We eventually arrived at the stop and I became bored with the ring. I asked my brother, “You want this?” “No”, he replied. I then tossed it across the road. “Wait! I want it!” “I asked. If you wanted it - go get it if you want it.”

Now, it was a road, but it wasn’t a busy road. It was a typical suburban housing road with light but occasional 25 mph traffic. Looking both ways my brother crossed and after a little searching found the ring. He prepared to return across the road. He looked right then left. He had to wait on two cars. He then looked left and waited on another car. Then he darted across the road and was hit by a car coming from the right.

He flew into the air and bounced twice on the graveled pavement. I fell my knees and screamed, “God! No!”  It was not a request. I confess it was a command. I then got up and went to my brother lying unconscious on the road. In my mind I needed to move him out of the road so he didn’t get hit again.

Fortunately, some of the neighbors stopped me, covered my brother with a blanket, called an ambulance, and sent me to inform my mom. I ran home. 

For some reason I went to the front door and knocked. I told mom and she stood there in disbelief and said, “No! no?!??” And she froze. After a moment I said, “You can stay, but I’m going back.” Then I turned to leave. At which point she said, “Wait! I’m coming.” We both ran to the stop. In the process, I too, ran out in front of a car and placed my hand on the hood as I crossed the street. It was barely moving but I had failed to pay attention.

Eventually, the ambulance arrived. There was a lot of people milling about and talking while they loaded up my brother. Somehow I was permitted to ride in the back of the ambulance and talked with the paramedics as they stabilized him. There remain only visual memories of that.

Much is a blur after that. There were days and weeks at the hospital. There were cancelled summer plans. There were weeks of recovery for him at home. There were interviews with insurance companies or lawyers or something.There was a wedding where he limped down the aisle as a ring bearer several months later.

A club and a ring. They are tied together because of their proximity in time and place. They were also the source of teasing. “You tried to club me to death. I just played ring toss.”

It wasn’t the only traumatic event in my life - but it was the first.  In the end we recovered. We still remember. Sometimes on purpose. Sometimes not. It remains part of me - no matter what. And you know, I still find treasures.

American Revolution - The Elephant in the Room

 

The Elephant in the Room

Elephants have a large footprint in idioms and popular culture.  They never forget. They turn pink when we have too much to drink. Though massive, they're said to fear tiny mice. When white, they show up as gifts that no one wants. They lead stampedes in Southeastern Conference football. They fly with their ears in Disney books and movies. They are symbols of political determination in the form of the American Republican party. They hang out in refrigerators for children's jokes. And they must be pointed out when in a room because even when everyone sees them, no one wants to talk about them.

On 7 June 1776, just days shy of 250 years ago Richard Henry Lee did exactly that. If the name Lee seems familiar to you, it should. He was a first cousin to Henry "Lighthorse Harry" Lee who was a successful officer of the American Revolution - famous for his contributions to the cause in his nighttime surprise attack in August of 1779 at the Battle of Paulus Hook, He was also a first cousin to Robert E. Lee who is famous for leading the Confederate forces in the American Civil War.  And, George Washington's niece married Richard Lee's son. If you believe the paper trail, I'm a fifth cousin to Richard Lee by way of a shared ancestor, Peter Stanley, (my 14th GGF).

Richard was deeply involved in colonial politics.  He was in the House of Burgesses from 1758 until it was dissolved.  He was a delegate to the First Continental Congress.  After the nation was formed, he was President of the Congress from 1784 to 1785 - and so, technically was a President of the United States before we started counting Presidents. He later served as a U.S. Senator from 1789 to 1792. 

But, in 1776, Richard's defining moment arrived. He stood, acknowledging the elephant in the room, declaring,  

"...these united colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown; and that all political connection between them and the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved."

From those words came the momentum that produced the Declaration of Independence and a war for independence that followed. To borrow another idiom - "The die was cast!"

Ironically, it was during Robert E. Lee's struggle, nearly ninety years later, that the quest for "free and independent states" was lost.  In the Spring of 1865 - the Confederacy surrendered not only its armies but the claim that states could remain fully sovereign with the Union born of the Revolution. 

Also ironic is, while Richard pointed out the elephant that was the quest for independence, he, along with many planters of that era ignored another elephant. A significant portion of the population were not made free. That unacknowledged contradiction - between the ideals of the Declaration of Independence and the reality of slavery - became a wound that festered, split the nation, and continues to affect its future strength and unity. 

We ignore an obvious problem because the consequences of addressing it seem to be greater than the consequences of letting the elephant linger in the room. The consequence of Richard pointing out the elephant was a world war - but the reward was a new nation. The consequence of ignoring the elephant of slavery was a civil war and continued pain.

Choices always produce consequences. 

Occupational Hazard - So, What Do You Do?

 

Great Grandfather - Redmond Rose in his Blacksmith Shop

"So, what do you do?" That is a question so often asked by one American to another.  It is the question that for many cultures is considered rude. Maybe its because it seems to try to put people into social classes. Maybe because for them work is not as closely tied to identity.

But, for Americans it is a very natural small talk opening.  It is a way to seek connection. The conversation might go something like this:

A: "So, what do you do?"

B: "I'm a teacher.  I've been a public-school teacher for 20 years."

A: "Wow! My brother is a teacher in Alabama. He teaches High School Science. What about you?"

And so on. This is all done - usually without judgement or with any intent to establish pecking order. Though, social ordering happens in this way, too, in some circles.

For Americans it is natural to ask - what did my ancestors do for an occupation?

As I looked along my family lines I, like many find farmers.  Some were small local farmers growing and raising enough for sustenance and community exchange while others were truly farming as a business venture.

In the late 18th and early 19th century a few of my ancestors stood out for doing things other than farming.  A direct paternal ancestor, Malcolm, was, in addition to farming, a militiaman and scout on the western frontier. His son, Sylvester, began as guard/bailiff, but his experience led him to the legal profession becoming a Justice of the Peace and ultimately a Probate Judge. He also was a tutor at times.

Another interesting profession during that time period was a second great-grandfather, Philip Blume, who was a saddler - first in his role during the War of 1812 and later as a profession. It is also possible that he dipped into investing into hospitality (Blume Hotel) and coal mining in his later years as his children were directly involved in the activities. Philip's mother, Elizabeth, mentions that her son, Jacob, "received the wine of life" indicating the good things were happening for him - and this is the time that the coal business was taking off for Jacob with his future brother-in-law.

One fourth great-grandfather, Timothy Bates, would have current conservative Christian fellowships spinning their heads. He came with his father, Ephriam, to Ohio because of a combination of opportunity and abolitionists beliefs developed under the influence of Jacob Green. Pioneers on the frontier and religiously zealous - Timothy preached on Sundays at a Christian Church that often met on his farm in his distillery using the whiskey barrels as benches.

Moving further into the 19th century my family followed the rivers. Monroe McCown was very entrepreneurial.  He was a lay Methodist minister, a fruit farmer, blacksmith, steamboat clerk and possibly pilot. His wife, Henrietta, owned a good bit of property in the main town and in the countryside - where she may have rented out property for others to farm. In her younger years she had been a seamstress and may have continued that activity as the opportunity arose. Their son, Sylvester, was similarly entrepreneurial.  Like his father, he apprenticed in blacksmithing, managed a fruit farm in Ohio, and he speculated on timber in Louisiana and Arkansas.

One second great-grandfather never came to America.  Zacharias Anderson, born in 1836 to a tenant farmer living in a backstuga in Naverstad, Sweden. He eventually moved to Grebbestad near the coast where he first tried cobbling - but changed his primary occupation to strandfiskare or beach fishing which consisted of cast net fishing, small boat usage, and fishing from the shore. When Zacharais' son, Oscar, came to the U.S. he would lean on those things he had learned from his father occupying himself as a boat captain, fisherman, bridge builder, and general construction contractor. I could see echoes of this fishing legacy while growing up in the panhandle of Florida where my grandmother and aunt, (Zacharias' grandchildren) would scoop crabs, gig flounder, and uncles would cast nets for mullet. Even today, I can't visit an Aquarium without getting hungry.

At the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th centuries, two ancestors on opposite sides of the family tree set up general goods and sundry stores.

One, Robert Wylie, operated on the old routes - the rivers, specifically the Ohio. The other, William Ira Goad, operated on the new routes - the rail roads, along the L&N specifically in Repton, AL William's son-in-law, Alva Otto Huckaby, was a carpenter along the L&N and followed it south into Florida.

Fully into the 20th century both of my grandfathers were eventually employed by the federal government.  Before that, Herbert McCown, managed a small farm, worked in his cousin's coal mine, and traveled with a timber company. The government job allowed him to stay near the farm as he obtained a job with the Army Corp of Engineers with the hydroelectric dam operations on the Ohio. His wife, Nellie, with her love of books was a librarian. Ira Huckaby eventually worked for the Naval Air Station in Pensacola, first as a carpenter then as an estimator for the Public Works Department. Before that he was driving a taxi.

Dad farmed as a teen and worked in a jewelry store. But he quickly joined the Navy, He didn't stay in long.  He did, though, learn a skill and used it to get a contracting job with the USAF as an electronic technician, He used that skill for most of his career.  He later earned a college degree and retired as a computer specialist. 

As for me, my first official job was as an appliance installer for a small appliance store.  As I was going to college, I worked in the Couty School Art Department doing whatever needed to be done for the program administrator. After earning a degree, I began working for the USAF in software maintenance and weapon system analysis activities.

"What do you do?" is not the same as "Who are you?" or at least it shouldn't be. And yet, it gives a window into the skills a person possessed and the nature of life they experienced. Exploring the occupations of these ancestors works much the same for opening a window into their lives for those who inquire.

American Revolution - Artful Recollections of Burgesses of Yore

Artwork from the 80s

While I was attending college I had the good fortune of having a college in my hometown and a job that permitted me to work part time.  The advantage of this is that I had no school loans when I finished school.  The job I had was working in the Art Department for the local school board district. My boss's name was Mary Jo Burgess. 

The teachers gave me a shirt I still have, and don't recall if I ever wore. I also collected a few handmade gifts each Christmas that I worked there - as that was a requirement of the gift exchange. The brown vase, I encountered at an auction in the 2000s - and I immediately recognized it by the signature on the bottom - as it was the same signature as the silkscreened owl I had received one year as a gift from one of the teachers.

How a guy who was addicted to playing sports and otherwise focused on math and science wound up working for the Art Department is a story in itself. Nonetheless it exposed me to a way of thinking and an area of interest that I would have neglected otherwise. 

I thought of Ms. Burgess this week as I read an article about the 250th Anniversary of the disbanding of the House of Burgesses in the Virginia Colony. Seeing the article - I began to wonder.  "Didn't I see that some of my ancestors were members of the House of Burgesses?" "Were they there on the day it disbanded or at events leading up to its final meeting?"

The House of Burgesses had formed in the earliest days of Jamestown in 1619 as an early self-governing body under the Virginia Company. It transitioned to being under the control of the British Crown in 1624; but by the 1640s the Burgesses were in charge of taxation and local laws. After Bacon’s Rebellion, the Crown increasingly tried to restrain the Burgesses’ power; however, the assembly continued to expand its authority and became the dominant political institution in Virginia. Consequently, Governor John Murray fourth Earl of Dunmore dissolved the assembly in May of 1774. Even so, some members continued meeting informally and sporadically until it completely disbanded on the sixth of May two years later.

The ancestor that I was recalling that had been a member of the House of Burgesses was an eighth great-grandfather, Christopher Robinson. He had been a member of the House of Burgesses from 1685 to 1693 during its time of increasing autonomy. Christopher's son and my seventh great-grandfather, John Robinson, was also a member of the House of Burgesses in 1711 and 1714.

John's father-in-law, and also my eighth great-grandfather, Robert Beverley, was also a member and clerk of the House of Burgesses. Robert was active in commanding Governor Berkeley's forces in defense against Nathaniel Bacon and his rebellion. However, when British commissioners arrived, he sided with the Burgesses against the King's representatives. He was blamed by King James II for disruption in the Colonies.

William Robinson, was my sixth great-grandfather in that lineage - but there is no evidence that he served in the House of Burgesses - though he, too, was active in the civic community. His brother (and therefore my uncle), John Robinson, did serve in the House of Burgesses from 1728 until his death in 1766. So, the family was a participant in the tradition from close to its beginning to near its waning days.

These Robinson, I came to discover after tracking down the name and true identity of my third great-grandmother, Sarah Jane Robinson. She was originally just a name on a slip of paper that my grandfather had written down for my dad. The original note said 'Robertson' instead of 'Robinson' - but it was enough to go on to track down documents that showed her actual name and lineage.

 

Well, this little diversion peregrinated from artful recollections to name associations, then brought us through some civic-minded family. In doing so it brings me to a question. Has the art of civic responsibility faded, or is it simply aimed at different civic challenges?

Genealogy - Going South

Grandparent's Camper

One of my favorite things to do with my grandparents was camping.  They loved to camp.  They traveled all over the country both before and after my grandfather retired. For the most part, I would camp with them at Fort Pickens State (and later National) Park. However, a few times we traveled with them to Tennessee and Kentucky.  Along the way we would stay over a night or two in a State or National Park. 

One year we stayed in a campground that was on Duck River in Tennessee. I struggle to remember the name of the park, but with a little research a likely candidate is Henry Horton State Park. While I was staying at this park I went on a nature trail walk with my dad and "Pawpaw". Dad was always the adventurous explorer when it came to the outdoors. He wanted to go down from the trail to the river - but the spur off the trail was steep. He told me to wait - which I did.

Pawpaw began following my dad a bit behind him, then he turned around.  No doubt it was to remind me to stay where I was, but I interpreted it as "come on." And so, I did!  

Flatlander that I was, I was soon racing toward the river at top speed - right past Pawpaw and then right past Dad - through the poison ivy that Dad was investigating and face first onto the rock ledge as the edge of the river. The air was knocked out of me, I may have very briefly lost consciousness, and my tennis ball I was holding went floating down the river. The first thing I said was, "Dad, go get my ball!" Wisely, he refused. He and Pawpaw got me back up the bank to get checked out and cleaned up. Amazingly, I had no itchy consequences of poison ivy.

Only years later did I realize that the trail I tumbled down was part of a much older path that one part of my family had been following for more than two centuries.

The genealogical trail is certain from Duck River to the Gulf shores of Pensacola. The trail to Duck River from the Old World through Maryland is probable - but not fully proven. The remainder of this article will travel that story through a few different surnames.

The story begins with Samuel Lane, who in 1664 two years after he had been ejected as the Vicar of Long Houghton, Northumberland (England) he immigrated to the Maryland Colony paying his own fare. He inherits a place called Brawsley Hall and acquires other properties in what became Anne Arundel County, Maryland and specifically, Harwood. He was "a gentleman, chirurgeon, doctor, doctor of physics, Commissioner of Anne Arundel County, justice of peace, gentlemen of the quorum and military major." In 1682, though, he died in skirmishes associated with Lord Baltimore's Wars.

Samuel's granddaughter, Elizabeth Lane, married David Weems.  David was originally from Wemyss, Fife, Scotland, but immigrated to Mashes Seat in Anne Arundel County, MD in the early 1700s. David was the owner (or part owner) of a Privateer Schooner, Williamanta and a Sloop, Washington. During the American Revolution ships like these would protect coastal plantations from British raids, attack British ships, and disrupt British supply lines in the Chesapeake Bay.

David's grandson, John Weems, is believed to have been born in Mashes Seat but had already moved to Orange County, North Carolina near Hillsborough by the mid-1760s before the Revolution. At the age of twenty-two he purchased nearly four-hundred acres of land, suggesting he had substantial financial resources or backing. In 1790 he sold that property and invested in land on Lick Creek near Bulls Gap in what would become Greene County, TN (36°12'35.67"N,  83° 2'36.77"W). John's son, William, would move to Maury County, TN sometime between 1805 and 1811. This is where we first encounter Duck River as it runs directly through Maury County.

William had four children. One died unmarried. Two went to Chickasaw Territory in Mississippi to encounter misfortune. One was witness to a murder and the other was the wife of the victim.  The third, my ancestor - Catherine Weems Tombs, stayed in Maury County where the family continued farming. There they witnessed the Battle of Columbia and the Reconstruction Era that followed the Civil War. 

With Reconstruction came the expansion of the railway in the American south.  Migration that had followed waterways, like Duck River, were now following the tracks as they were being laid. 

Catherine's grandson was William Ira Goad, Catherine probably influenced her daughter to name after her brother who had seen such misfortune in Mississippi. William tried to farm for a while but gave it up sometime after 1880 and began working as a Railroad laborer.  He followed the railroad south to Repton, AL in the first ten years of the 20th Century. He then settled there and opened and operated a supply store. By 1920 the store was gone and he had moved to live in Childress, TX. 

His daughter, Susie May Goad Huckaby, married a railroad carpenter, A.O. Huckaby, in Wayne, TN. They followed the L&N Railroad with her father to Repton and then on to Pensacola. There they remained.

Their son, Ira, turned around to tell me to stay right where I was - but I, like those before me kept coming.